


Spring Brings Forth Change

by TallFlower



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Best Friends, Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I did my best, I haven't used this site in so long idk how to tag this...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 11:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18387353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallFlower/pseuds/TallFlower
Summary: Fjorester Week | Day 7: SeasonsAfter a run-in with a fearsome owlbear, the Mighty Nien are left battered and bruised. The team is forced to treat their wounds, both physical and emotional, and Fjord is being haunted by the past. The changing of seasons is a time of reflection, after all...





	Spring Brings Forth Change

**Author's Note:**

> Well howdy. It has been a while.  
> Wrote this as a Fjorester Week piece, but this was also reverse-prompted by princessamericachavez on Tumblr a very long time ago. But I've never been one for speed. Still, hope you guys enjoy!

Bathed in the dusk of dying twilight, the Mighty Nien had taken refuge within their carriage.

Seven in all, there were (if you included Frumpkin — which you ought to). All of them were weary from the day they were slowly leaving behind. A battle with a nasty owlbear had dampened the mood of the night, leaving the party battered, bruised, and licking their wounds. True, they had slain the beast that had attacked them, but caution was a high priority. No need to take risks when they didn’t need to.

None of them were ready to make gambles again. Not yet.

The violet sky overhead was swiftly consumed by darkness. Fjord watched as, one by one, a canopy of stars materialised out from the black, flickering and glittering like diamonds. But none compared to the moon. It’s ghostly florescence bathed the land in white, foggy light. The large orb’s gaze followed them, watching them like the glistening eye of a god. One neither kind nor cruel.

The party travelled along the forest’s river, following it as the map instructed. Winter was falling away into spring, much like how the day fell for the night. The ice and snow had melted away as they travelled, the ground beneath them slowly turning green once more. The river wound through the forest like a ribbon, welcoming stray flora that grew alongside its borders. From the mud came flowers as golden as sunshine, as fluid as rain. They came at first in ones and twos, yet soon they are the most buoyant of crowds, happily dancing in the wind. The water of the river glistened, mirroring the dazzling assemblage of the moon and stars up above.

Somewhere, far away from here, Fjord knew it flowed to the ocean. The journey might have been long, winding, and perilous, but he knew water attracted to water. Every droplet returned to the sea. Just like he would, as it turned out. They were only five days away from Nicodranas—

Jester’s high-pitched whimper brought Fjord back to his senses.

“That hurt!” she cried at him, pouting at where he dabbed a cloth to her wound. Her bottom lip quivered as the alcohol seeped into the long, jagged cut that snaked from her shoulder to her forearm.

It was a gift given by the aforementioned owlbear.

The beast had snuck up on them while they stopped near a lake. More than likely the lake was his watering hole, or near his cave. Either way, they were on _his_ home turf. And he quickly let them know that they weren’t welcomed visitors. That didn’t stop Jester from diving head first into the fight, like always.

He merely sighed. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Fjord said, quietly. The bleeding was starting to slow, but he still fretted. The contrast between her cerulean skin and the red of the blood made him a bit queasy. It reminded him of memories he’d rather forget. Nevertheless, he pressed on, trying to block it from his mind. “I need you to grit your teeth and stay still for me while I finish this off.”

She hesitated at first but nodded. “I’ll try...” she told him, closing her eyes tightly as he wiped it.

He knew it was sore to the touch, so he tried to be as gentle as he could. “Look on the bright side, you’ll have a fashionable scar after this. It’ll make you seem more...” Fjord searched for the right word but was coming up blank.

“It’ll make you seem _cooler_ ,” Beau interjected from the front of the cart.

Beauregard, who sported a bloody and crooked nose, had decided she would drive. A ginger tabby lay gently wrapped around her neck and muscled shoulders like a scarf, but the monk didn’t seem to mind. Every so often she’d look down at the slumbering creature, smiling as she heard Frumpkin’s snores, before urging the horses onwards. The seat beside her — a seat Yasha would have taken — was empty.

Beau pushed herself from the wooden bench so she could kneel on it instead, jabbing a thumb at herself while nodding to the others. “We all got scars, right?” Before anyone could answer, the monk proceeded to lower her pants, showing a white crooked line across her dark stomach. “See this baby? Got it in a sparring match back during my training. It’ll probably look just like yours, Jester.”

Jester cracked open one eye, leaning in slightly to inspect it. There was a hint of awe as she gawked, eyes wide. “ _Oooh_ ,” she cooed. “That is pretty cool.”

Beau grinned, pointing to Jester’s arm. “That’s nothing to snuff at either. It’ll earn you respect. Next time we’re in a bar you can be all—” The monk bent her arm, showing off her protruding bicep. “ _‘Hey, you should’ve seen the other guy.’_ ”

Jester giggled, the sound like a little bell. Despite how Fjord rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but laugh along with her. However, their mirth was cut short.

His attentions were quickly diverted to the sharp sound of fingers snapping together. In Caleb’s hand sat a small flame, which he placed into each of the four lamps that hung off the carriage’s corners. The flame burnt neatly amid the dusty wax. At first, it smelt odd, as if the fire were digesting the dirt, then it was just the same as any other candle; orange flame, blackening wick and pooling wax. The orange hue illuminated the wizard’s gaunt face. Purple bruises trailed from his cheek down along his throat.

“Don’t encourage her,” the wizard muttered under his breath. “If that beast struck any deeper or if an infection started spreading, then none of us would be celebrating.”

Fjord’s eyes slid to Caduceus, who lay stretched out on the carriage. Their new companion had gotten the worst of it; he had shoved Fjord away from the owlbear’s surprise attack, and was subsequently slammed into a tree before being tossed into the rocky riverbank. Somewhere amidst this, he smacked his head and fell still. Caleb had to put up a firewall just to keep the unconscious Caduceus from being further mauled while he, Fjord, and the party’s trio of warrior women slew the beast.

The firbolg’s head had been carefully wrapped in cloth after his wounds had been disinfected. His long, pastel pink hair was streaked with his own blood, now dried and crusted. Caleb moved on to wrapping one of his arms, which had a gash similar to Jester’s.

Nott was sitting in between Caleb and Fjord, her giant silver flask in her hands. She’d sometimes drip the contents onto with Fjord’s or Caleb’s clothes while they attempted to patch up their teammates, but he’d see her take a sneaky sip out of the corner of his eye a couple of times. He also noticed the worried glances she would give to her friend.

Fjord couldn’t quite place it, but he knew something was wrong. Caleb had frozen up again like he had at the manticore nest and in the Victory Pit, snapping out of it when the battle was done. It was a pattern he grew conscious of, though he did not know what it meant. Whatever his deal with fire was, he knew the others could sense it; Beau had kept her teasing to a minimum, and Nott, of course, didn’t leave Caleb’s side. It made him feel as though there was a secret he was left out of.

There were many things Fjord wasn’t good at, but he knew for certain he was good at reading people. At least when they had something to hide. Caleb had been fretting and grumbling since the attack. But Fjord would watch the wizard’s eyes lose focus, lost in thought. He didn’t know where he went, nor was he in a hurry to find out — it was none of his business. So he kept his mouth shut about it.

But he wasn’t going to keep his mouth shut for this. “Hey, leave ‘em be. Beau’s just tryin to make Jester feel better.”

“Yeah, _Caleb_ ,” Jester joined in. “You’re not my mom.”

“I never claimed to be anyone’s mother,” he replied, flatly, as he tied the cloth around Caduceus’ wrist.

“You are very motherly, Mr Caleb, if you don’t mind me saying.” Caduceus sat up onto his elbows, looking around at them all with eyes half-open, speech slurred and slow. Or, slower than usual. “Like your tiny friend,” he said, nodding to Nott.

“I prefer vertically challenged, thank you,” Nott quipped.

“Then vertically challenged friend, then.”

“...You said ‘then’ twice. Was that on purpose? Is it some sort of quirk?”

Caduceus just slowly blinked at her.

Nott just let out a long sigh and murmured an _oh dear_ under her breath before standing up. “Okay, Deucey, I think it’s time for sleep,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him back. The firbolg happily obliged, settling on his back again, with hands resting on his stomach while he closed his eyes. Soon, he was snoring.

It was clear that Caleb didn’t see the humour in the situation. His jaw visibly tightened. “Fine. If you all want to sit here and make jokes, so be it. I won’t be a part of it.”

Fjord was about to let it go, but decided to get one last word in before dropping it; “Yes, it was a close call, but everyone made it out alright. There ain’t no need to be this harsh on ‘em for making few laughs. Let ‘em have their fun.”

And he was going to leave it at that. He turned back to Jester’s wound, giving it one last dab of the cloth before starting to carefully wrap her forearm with white bandages. Blood blossomed and spread out on the first few layers, but he continued wrapping it around and around until he saw the blood no more. Jester was a trooper, as he knew she would be — she kept her focus, kept her arm still. Fjord made sure to be gentle, of course, especially as he fastened it.

But he had accidentally sparked something within the wizard. Something vile.

“And the previous close call we had, someone _died_ ,” Caleb snapped. “Or is it more convenient for you to not think about it? To forget since you weren’t there to witness it? There is a price to pay for folly. Excuse me for not relishing in mistakes that could cost more lives.”

Jester let out a soft, audible gasp.

Before Fjord could feel the anger bubble in the pit of his stomach or scarcely think of a response, the carriage came to a sharp and sudden stop. With a huff, the horses halted their onward march.

Beauregard hopped out of her seat, going over to bind them to the thick torso of a neighbouring tree. The horses merely stood with heads slightly low, chewing on their bridles idly and swatting flies with their tail. She gave them a pat on their romps before coming around to the back of the cart.

“Alright, break time,” she said, crossing her brawny arms over her chest. Frumpkin’s ears were pricked up, her tail flickering as she subtly shifted to keep balance on Beau’s shoulders. “Stretch your legs. Go to the bathroom. All that jazz.” Her turquoise eyes seared into Caleb. “I’m feeling jittery, so I might go on a quick walk. Wanna join?”

Despite her kind words and light tone, it was clear that this was no suggestion. It was undoubtedly an order.

One that Caleb naturally followed. With a silent nod, he jumped nimbly over the side of the carriage. Fjord watched as Caleb slinked away with Beau, head low and hands in his ragged pockets. The two figures disappeared beyond the thicket, leaving the remaining four alone.

Jester and Nott’s inquisitive stares trailed after the two humans, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock over what had just transpired. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets, the familiar trickle of flowing water, the silken rustle of tree leaves, and Caduceus’ snoring.

Meanwhile, Fjord stared vacantly at the wood floor beneath him. Anger boiled deep in his gut, as hot as glowing lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and Fjord knew it was too much for him to handle. The pressure of this raging sea would force him to declare things he didn’t mean, or to express thoughts he’s suppressed for weeks if he didn’t leave right now and do… something.

Wordlessly, the orc got to his feet and climbed out of the cart, going to the river’s edge. Even in the darkness of night, he could make out his own face. The water reflected his own image back at him, the white moon behind his head like a misty crown of light. He flicked his foot across the glassy surface, destroying the mirror so he wouldn’t see it anymore.

Fjord dropped to his haunches, cupping his hands and scooping up some of the water as it rippled. He ran his hands across his haggard face, his dishevelled hair, the back of his neck, feeling the cold droplets on his moss-green skin.

The river’s depth was deceptive, mostly because it was as clear as a mountain spring. Every rounded stone on the bottom was rendered in absolute clarity. All Fjord wanted to do was wade into the river, to feel the water flow around his limbs in a calm, cool embrace, drinking away his body heat. To just experience peace, to feel at ease. Something he hadn’t felt in so long.

A tender, delicate hand fell onto his left shoulder. He followed the trail of brilliant blue to see Jester’s concerned face.

She sat beside him amongst the flowers. “Hey,” she said.

It took him a moment, but he forced the excessive tension out of his muscles. “Hey,” he replied, voice quivering slightly as he spoke.

“He didn’t mean it,” Jester informed him. “He’s in pain.”

“I know.” He inhaled sharply. “But he was right.”

“Fjord...”

“He’s _right_ , Jester.” He waved a deft hand to the cart. “That owlbear could have killed Caduceus. It could have killed you—” He promptly stopped when his voice broke, snatching another steadying breath. He glanced over at her forearm, at the bandage that was covering her wound. The wound she got from the owlbear. The one she got trying to defend him.

Once he knew his voice was ready, he continued; “That beast could have killed the both of you. The pair of you were protecting me. And I can’t take more innocent people being buried in the dirt or the sea ‘cause of me.” Fjord swallowed, meeting Jester’s eyes. “I need you to promise me.”

Jester’s eyebrows furrowed. “Promise what?”

“That you'll never do that again. That you’ll never put your life in that much danger for me again.”

Instead of softening under his gaze and at his request, Jester merely steeled. “No,” she simply said. “I won’t promise you. And I will not hear another bullshit request like that again.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up her finger to silence him. “Ah! Not another word. I’m always going to protect my friends, no matter what. You included. And I think we’re really really _really_ good friends, and that means I’m going to protect you even more.” Jester bestowed upon him her famous smile, the one that lit up her face brighter than the sun.

Fjord just shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle. “I can’t convince you otherwise?”

“You can try, but you’ll lose,” she said, shrugging. “I didn’t write the creed for the Super Best Friends.”

“Super Best Friends?”

“Yeah. That’s what we are. It means we’re above Best Friends since we’ve known each other for so long!” She leaned in, covering the side of her mouth with her long, flowing sleeve. “Don’t tell Nott, I don’t want her to be upset,” she whispered.

Fjord laughed to himself again. “Alright, alright. I won’t tell her a thing. But I want you to know since I can’t pry you off my back, I’ll always have yours.”

She put her arm down. “I already know that, silly.” Jester was about to stand, but paused. “I just wanted you to know… Molly wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself for what happened.”

At that, his smile did falter. “Thank you, Jester,” was all he said.

The blue tiefling granted him one last smile. “Okie, I’m going to go pee while I have the chance. I was really holding it. Sitting beside you? That was a risky move and I'm paying for it now.” She jumped back up onto her feet and scattered off into the forest, doing little skips and dances as she left. The flowers swayed after her.

Fjord watched her go, a smirk playing upon his lips, before looking back across the flowing river. The water had settled once more and stared back at him. The moon was still crowning his reflection.

He eventually looked elsewhere, admiring the flowers around him.

The seasons had faded in and out like soft lullabies since he joined the Mighty Nien, their transitions swift and unfaltering. Always forward and never back. It never wallowed in the past; it merely kept moving forward. Molly was left in the indifferent grip of winter. Just like his parents. No one could change that. Certainly not him, as much as he would like to. And despite all evidence contradicting it, he knew within his heart that Vandren did not lie in the past. Neither did his patron. Or Jester...

Ergo, that left only one path to move in.

Fjord knew to promptly follow Jester and the rest of the Nien into spring, and beyond. And so he did.


End file.
